Chapter Eleven: Adaptation

Thomas Jerome Newton was intelligent, calculating, methodical and infinitely patient. Having traveled much farther and under more difficult circumstances than seemed humanly possible, he understood the importance of binding ones time and now was such a time. Newton had a mission to accomplish, a task to complete and he would let nothing stand in his way.

He and his men were in a black SUV barreling down the Interstate. They still wore the Medic uniforms from the hijacked helicopter, and with his tall lean frame and short blonde hair, Newton had the appearance of a soldier in command. His piercing blue eyes scanned the monitor in his lap, he tapped on the keyboard and it adjusted the focus on a group of government issued vehicles that included a medical aid car. The caravan had left the Joshua Tree National Park by way of Twenty Nine Palms and headed due west on State Route 60. They had passed Moreno Valley and Chino and would be entering East Los Angeles within the hour.

"Sir, has our directive been abandoned? I understood they were to lead us to it, or that it would come to them. That was the objective, wasn't it?" Newton's colleague addressed him with great respect.

"Plans change, adaptation will help us achieve our goal and keep us alive. It would have been foolish to engage in combat with their army, we would likely have won, but it would have brought unwanted attention on us, it's wise to choose ones battles carefully." Newton lowered the lid on his computer and looked out of the window of their vehicle. "As it turns out, there are more forces at work here than we were aware of, it seems the two authors may not have directly been responsible for the beacon's reappearance. Their involvement is curious, however, containing them would have been an ill use of our resources."

His subordinate, who was driving, looked at him with surprise. "If they are not responsible, who is? The transmission detected at the airport led us directly to them."

"There is much we still need to understand about the Beacon's ability to transmit data. On closer examination, the airport was the correct location, however, we were mistaken about the target. We are now looking for John Mosely."

"Mosely? I thought he was dead? The FBI Agent, shot and killed him."

"Yes she did." He chuckled. "We had thought Agent Dunham had done us a great favor by taking a rogue agent like Mosely out of the fold, he needed to be stopped. His behavior had put our mission in jeopardy, but as we have learned, things are not always as they seem."

"We will arrive back at the airport in a very short time, another helicopter has been appropriated for our use." The driver stepped on the gas pedal and smirked as they sped down the highway.

It was difficult for Peter to keep his frustration under control, searching the airport terminals for Olivia was like finding a needle in a haystack but he knew he couldn't allow panic get the best of him.

Along the way, he had stopped trying to make sense of the merry go round of people and their objectives, and even though he was angry at Patrick Jane's personal agenda and concerned for Agent Lisbon's safety, his anger and concern was secondary to finding his partner. Olivia pulled Peter toward her like a magnet, they were intrinsically connected and he knew it.

The food court was relatively empty compared to a few hours before, flights had been reinstated and passengers were now bunched up around departure gates. He scanned the area, searching for evidence of her presence, looking for the familiar willowy build and head of flaxen colored hair. He didn't see her, but he spotted a young man cleaning tables and approached him.

"Hey, have you seen a woman, about thirty, five feet six, slim with shoulder length blonde hair, wearing black coat?"

The bus boy set his tray and towel down, he looked at him suspiciously, but his frown disappeared when Peter held out a ten dollar bill.

"There are a lot of women with blonde hair who come through here. Was she with someone?" He eyed the money that Peter held in his fingers.

Peter folded his arms and looked at him. "Maybe… she might have been with a bald headed man in a conservative looking dark suit…"

The teenager grinned. "Oh yeah, they were sitting at that table by the window for the last hour. He was showing her a photo album, he finally got up and left with the book, maybe twenty or thirty minutes ago, right after my shift started."

"Did you see where she went?"

"Yeah, over there." He pointed toward the cocktail lounge at the edge of the food court.

Peter nodded his appreciation and handed him the ten dollars, he quickly crossed the terminal toward the airport lounge. He entered the dimly lit area and was relieved to find Olivia, alive and unhurt slumped over the bar with a drink in her hand.

"My God, Liv… are you all right?" He took the bar stool next to her and leaned toward her, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

"Peter?" Olivia looked up at him, her face filled with confusion and her eyes glistening with emotion. "Peter, have you ever considered the future? Our future?"

"Constantly." He was taken aback and looked at her with concern. "Liv, what happened? After we rescued Castle and Dr. Brennan, I found Broyles knocked out and you were gone. Are you hurt?" He studied her face and the half filled glass of scotch she held in her hand.

He turned her toward him and cupped his hand on her cheek. "Olivia, please tell me what happened?"

She raised her eyes tentatively and looked at him, her voice was filled with distress. "Peter, this is going to sound crazy, even crazier than most of the things we've witnessed and experienced."

He saw she was upset, but his face softened with a small smile "What is it? Tell me your crazy story Agent Dunham."

"We are important, Peter, we matter."

The Observer walked silently through the deserted parking garage, he looked straight ahead, his posture was erect and his movements purposeful. He stopped and stood discreetly between a box truck and support pillar, and watched John Mosely hovering over a small, dark haired woman who lay motionless on the ground. He had a large carving knife in one hand, a gun dangling from the other and he was talking to himself as he circled around her.

"Teresa, it's time to wake up. He prodded her with the toe of his shoe and the action caused her head to loll back and forth.

Mosely looked amused as she struggled to regain consciousness. He had removed his suit coat and tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves, his hair was no longer combed but hung in his face. "Rise and shine, Teresa. You can't sleep the day away."

Lisbon moaned, but she was still dazed from the beating he had given her and her breathing was labored. Mosely looked irritated behind his mask of amusement. "Teresa? I said wake up." His tone had changed to cold indifference.

Her eyes fluttered open and pain radiated through them, she felt nauseous and disoriented. She closed her eyelids against the assault of the overhead fluorescent light and the accompanying hum, trying to remember where she was and why she felt this way.

Her incoherent behavior incensed Mosely and his face took on an expression of rage. He shook the large knife he held in his hand at her, his body language showed he trembled with emotion. "You know, I always wish I could see Patrick's face whenever he finds another one of my victim's, MY victim, not some bungling amateur who lacks the flair and takes his time like I do." He was boastful and his anger turned to exaltation and pure lust at the anticipation of cutting into her body.

Mosely flicked at the buttons on Lisbon's blouse, watching them skitter across the cement floor, he hummed to himself, but the sound of a distant door opening and faint footsteps in the cavernous building stopped him. His face turned ashen at the sound of muffled voices in the distance.

"I'm not much of a marksman, I don't know if this is a good idea." Jane whispered when Cho handed him the twenty-two he wore in his ankle holster.

"Take it, and use it if you need to. "Cho's tone was dismissive and he motioned for him to follow him, they crept through the garage, looking down the rows and in between the vehicles.

Mosely was visibly disturbed and he quickly stood up and stepped back into the shadows next to his van. He felt the weight of the gun in his hand and placed his finger on the trigger. A buzz of excitement washed over him when he realized the intruders were suddenly very quiet, and he knew they were carefully searching the garage. He could have escaped when he had the chance, but the lure of toying with the CBI was too great, and now he shook with anticipation.

Cho walked very slowly with his gun raised in one hand, his other hand supporting it, he scanned the parking garage, his senses on high alert. He cautioned Jane with a nod and they took turns stealthily criss-crossing from their hiding place behind the cars and then with their backs against a concrete pillar.

Jane felt the presence of the evil sociopath but his concern for Lisbon kept his fear at bay. He felt more than could easily be explained and focused on watching Cho's sly movements, continuing to follow behind him.

The quiet stillness was suddenly disrupted by Lisbon, her muffled moan sent a shock of fear down Jane's spine. Cho suddenly stepped out from behind the vehicle and pointed it toward the noise. He saw the van, it's interior light showed the back doors were open and laying on the ground nearby was Lisbon.

Jane saw her too, he rushed toward her prone body and fell to his knees next to her, he set the gun in his hand down, while Cho spun around looking for the assailant. He removed the gag from her mouth, blood trickled down the side of her face and her breathing was listless and shallow. "Lisbon? Teresa, we're here, you're going to be all right." The words were barely out of Jane's mouth when he heard the shot, the explosion of noise echoed throughout the building, and he turned to see Cho had been thrown backwards onto the ground.

Jane stiffened and raised his hands, he knew a gun was pointed at him from someplace close by.

"You coward..." Jane murmured to himself. "If you're so special, show yourself instead of hiding like a little girl... come out, or is Red John afraid?"

"Oh Patrick, I'm glad you could make it." Mosely chuckled from the shadows. "It's always better with an audience, and you are the best I could hope for. Stand up and keep your hands up." He had stepped away from the van.

Jane slowly stood up, out of the corner of his eye he saw the barrel of a gun come crashing down on his head and he crumpled to the ground. "But maybe, it's time to end this once and for all." Mosely looked pleased and pointed his gun at his head, his finger was still on the trigger and he savored the moment, but his glee was abruptly interrupted.

The Observer stepped out from his hiding place, he held a large gun out in front of him. He pointed it at John Mosely and pulled the trigger, but instead of a shot, a pulse of energy hit him square in the chest. Like a dazed boxer, he staggered back, his own gun went off and echoed throughout the cement structure. The Observer reached up and deflected the bullet with his hand as Mosely fell to his knees and slumped over.

He walked over to Lisbon and Jane who were both barely conscious. "What's happening? What is going on?" She was groggy and felt an inquisitive mixture of gratitude and horror, not sure if what she witnessed was real.

Satisfied that she and Jane were still alive, he turned and walked toward Cho. He had been hit in the chest and lay in a pool of blood, the Observer took a handkerchief out of his inside coat pocket and pressed it to his wound and the bleeding immediately stopped. He stood up, surveyed the scene and walked away.

Jane was still reeling from the blow to his head, he wasn't sure how long he had been out. He could hear voices near him and the sound and smell of a car engine running. The pain that throbbed in his head prevented him from propping himself up, and his head bobbed from side to side. His eyes would barely focus, but he detected the shapes of people moving, a loud thump and the sound of a car door closing, before the engine revved and sped away.

"Teresa? Can you hear me? Lisbon?" He choked the words out, and rolled over toward her.

"Yeah, I feel sick... What's happened? I don't understand... where's Mosely?

"Cho?" Jane called out, his voice was more than a whisper and filled with dread, but when Cho groaned, Jane was more than relieved and surprised.

He flopped backward and the next thing he detected was Van Pelt and Rigsby hovering over him.